This Side
by lastladystanding
Summary: It's the end of one world and the beginning of another, and they'll see you on the other side. But not yet. Spoilers for the series finale.


DISCLAIMER: Don't own it. Wish I did.

This Side

They stand together, shoulders touching only lightly, waving goodbye to the Raptor until it's out of sight, indistinguishable from the dark birds that flutter through the sky. Lee tries not to think about who was on that little ship, and what it meant to see it fade away. He tries to focus only on the sun on his skin, and the fresh breeze that ruffles his too-long hair, and the woman whose arm brushes softly, easily against his. They are all things he hasn't felt in far too long, and he intends to relish them.

So he doesn't linger, looking after his father's ship, and instead, he turns to Kara. She looks back at him with sad eyes. "So, what are you going to do now, Lee?"

He smiles, easily for the first time in what feels like forever, and stretches in the springtime sun. It's springtime here on this planet, or at least in this hemisphere, and it feels strange. After over four years floating through space without seasons, he thinks he may have forgotten what spring is like. It feels nice to be reminded.

"I don't know," he says. He blathers something ridiculous about hiking mountains and exploring rivers or he doesn't know what. It's more about the expansion of the dream than any sort of reality—just knowing that he _could_ go there, to that mountain, and he _could_ climb it. _They_ could climb it, all the way to the top, racing, competing, swearing and arguing and complaining all the way to the top. He's looking forward to it. He turns to her, a smile on his face.

"Kara?"

She has tears streaming down her cheeks, full-force, like someone turned on a faucet. He's never seen her cry silently like this, with the tremble of her lower lip and the wetness on her face the only indication that she's feeling any emotion at all. Usually she rages, screaming and throwing punches if she's crying at all. That's normal. This scares him, a little. He says her name again, and she just looks at him.

"I can't do this," she says, so quietly he can barely hear it. Something in him tells him that she's not speaking to him. "I can't do it. Not this time."

"Kara." He says her name firmly, with the authority of a superior officer, and she finally looks at him, and sees him, really sees him again. And she flashes him that same old cocky smile that he knows and loves.

"Lee?" she says, cocking an eyebrow. He's suddenly at a loss for words.

"So, what do you want to do?" he asks lamely.

"What do I _want_ to do?" she laughs. The tears have stopped now, and she wipes at them, still chuckling. "Frak, Lee, what I want to do, honestly… is have a damn smoke. Isn't that pathetic? We've made it—really _made it!_ And the only thing in this brand-spanking-new world I want to do is sully my lungs with some tar."

He laughs, too, and reaches for her hand. Something in him feels like he just dodged a bullet, but frak if he knows why. She lets him touch her, and if she doesn't return the squeeze he gives her hand, at least she's not pulling away. It's sort of enough for him right now. "You may be in luck," he teases, and her eyes light up as he pulls, from the pocket of his jacket—the last Caprican stogie he knows he'll ever see.

They strip off most of their heavy clothes and lie side-by-side in the grass in the sun, passing the cigar back and forth in a peaceful silence. Lee gets the feeling that Starbuck is repairing something inside herself, fixing the brokenness that she's been carrying under her skin, and putting herself back together. He stays quiet for a long time.

Finally, he turns his head and looks at her, and finds that she's already looking right back, chewing on the end of her cigar and giving him an appraising look from under her long lashes. "You got something to say, Apollo?" She's teasing him, and he likes it.

He jumps to his feet, swinging his arms back and forth and stretching out his shoulders. He suddenly feels full of life, full of energy, and ready for whatever this new world throws at him. "Yeah, Starbuck. So, are we gonna do this together, or what?" He looks down at her, eyes full of challenge, and she stares right back up, meeting him point for point. And she laughs, a big, deep, belly laugh that sounds foreign and strange at first because it's been _so damn long_ since he heard anyone laugh that freely.

"Yeah, Lee. We're gonna do this." He reaches a hand down to her and she slaps her own palm into it, letting him haul her to her feet, and she meets him at the top with a big, smacking kiss, more show than anything. It's a good show.

He slings an arm around her shoulders and she slides one around his waist, and they trip back down the meadow to where the other colonists are pitching tents and setting up cookfires. Down the hill Starbuck can see Athena glance up at them, shading her eyes against the sun. She smiles when she sees their body language, and says something to Helo, who's sitting on the grass showing Hera how to whittle, though he keeps her little hands well away from the blade.

They don't leave on their adventure of exploration, not yet. They've both forgotten what it's like to have a family, and they're relearning slowly. They have their own tent, pitched alongside Helo and Athena, and the other tents, which slowly turn into little cabins, are all friends that they've made and loved. Though Starbuck raises her eyebrow at calling Gaius Baltar a "friend." Caprica Six—"just Caprica, now," she says—is more useful by far than her prickly, brilliant husband. She's a natural diplomat, and is quickly chosen by the other colonists to judge disputes. She can't help but comment on the irony of that, when half a year ago most of the people who now want her judgment didn't trust her to take a shit, as Kara puts it. Kara likes her, although they have little in common, and Lee will sometimes come home to find the two of them drinking home-brewed moonshine on the dirt outside their front door, Caprica looking down at her drink with an embarrassed smile as Kara loudly guffaws at whatever dirty joke she's just made.

Cylon and human, now, it doesn't matter. Mostly. There are none of the Twos here in their little settlement, none of the Leobens. Kara won't allow it. One tried to join them, once. He had been a wanderer, a solitary nomad. He had come straggling into their little village, leaning on a walking stick. Normally visitors were welcome, but not this one. When Kara had seen him she had stiffened, tension in every line of her body. Her face had gone blank, drained of color, and she had walked away as fast as she could without running. Lee had found her in their little cabin, curled up on the bed with her knees to her chin like a child, and she had refused to let him touch her. "You don't frakking _get_ it, do you?" she had snarled, jerking away from his touch, and she had strode off out into the night, swearing as she went, to sleep in the open air. Lee pitied whatever animal thought to make her its prey that night.

They grow hardier, more determined. Some don't make it. Old Doc Cottle only lasts as long as his stash of cigarettes, the old grouch. Lee and Helo dig the grave. When they lower him into it, Kara can't help herself. "You know, they always say those things will kill you." She has a wry smile on her face, and Lee can't help but imagine that he hears Cottle's exasperated groan.

Things are harder without the old doctor; though of late there's been little he can do anyway. Medicines are running out. They're not used to the way a cold can be fatal; the flu isn't the mere annoyance that it had been in the past. They're having to be careful. Kara stands in the center of their little cabin and throws something at Lee- it hits him square in the chest and falls to the ground. He picks it up and looks at the empty pill package, then at her, questioning.

"That's the last of the birth control," she says casually, but there's a funny glint in her eye. "You ready to be a daddy, Lee?" His face lights up.

But try as they might, Kara can't get pregnant. He wonders if it might have something to do with what they did to her at that farm on Caprica, and, hesitantly, he confides in Athena their troubles. The village is small enough, and gods know Kara is loud enough, that no one doubts that she should have been pregnant six times over by now. There are few secrets here. Athena can't say for sure, but she agrees with Lee that the Cylon experimentation may have ruined Kara's fertility. When he tries to talk with her, she doesn't want to hear it. "Shut up and frak, Lee," are her exact words.

There's a part of him that is actually relieved, and he thinks she feels the same. But neither of them say anything. They babysit Hera a lot.

Kara is fidgety, with nothing to fly, and no one (except Lee) to fight. They fight a lot, at first, screaming matches that usually end with one or both of them nursing bruises. It's foreplay for them, but it's also serious. If Lee's honest with himself, he's not content with an easy life, either. They're warriors, the both of them. So they go find something to kill.

Hunting is easy. Kara's not content with the small game, the little gazelles and antelope that are fast, but timid. She likes hunting the predators, stalking them as they stalk her. It scares the hell out of Lee, and he tries to forbid her to do it, but she just laughs and tells him that if he's so frakking scared, maybe he should stay home and let her bring in the bacon. He bristles at that, of course. Just like she intended.

She's in the tall grass, her wheat-blond hair blending perfectly with the swaying stalks, armed only with a fire-hardened spear and a hunting knife. Lee has one of his own, but he's just along for the ride. He's got her six, as always. She's still, and ready, with a half-smile on her lips.

"This would be so much easier with a damn gun." The words are out before he can stop himself.

She glances at him, laughter in her eyes. "Yeah, well whose frakking bright idea was that, huh?"

The lioness pounces. Kara wheels and meets it with her spear, and that night they try a new kind of meat, and Kara makes them each a fur hat.

They love each other, fiercely, possessively. Lee can't imagine what ever possessed him to think that any other relationship would work out, when this is so obviously right.

He feels it when she smiles at him, or even when she yells. She feels it when they make love in their little cabin, trying to pretend that the whole village can't see them, and when she feels his presence at his back, watching out for her as they hunt. Neither of them every say the words, though. They've already said the words, and it never stopped them from leaving. They've said those words to other people; other people that hang over their heads sometimes, late at night when there's no moon, when they lie in their little bed, side by side and not touching. They can feel the eyes of the ghosts of their past betrayals following them, but they never say the names. Just like they never say "I love you." Like their guilt, it's understood.

They say their goodbyes with their packs already on their shoulders. Helo, his new son in his arms, smiles knowingly. Athena can't really believe that they want to go—she's come to love her life of simple domesticity. It suits her better than a flight suit ever did. Baltar comes and wishes them safe journey, but of course it only comes out patronizing and condescending. Kara rolls her eyes, but Lee puts on a fake smile and thanks the doctor for his good wishes.

They're looking to the mountains. It's time to cross, and see what they find on the other side.


End file.
